So far, I've made PTSD seem pretty simple. The sad truth is, it's not. The small amount that I've talked about is only the beginning. My days are so extremely complex and unpredictable. The hard truth is, sometimes I don't even know what parts of me are normal and which ones are PTSD.
Does everyone hear the world so loudly? Is everyone this afraid of something that isn't even there? Does everyone have a hard time seeing past next week? Is everyone thinking worst case scenario or jumping to the worst conclusion on a daily basis?
I understand that people fear, I understand they worry, I understand sometimes it's hard to believe we're all growing up. But for me, it just isn't that simple.
There's so many important things that someone needs to know about the reactions and sensitivity of a PTSDer - two of those things are hypervigilance and hyperarousal.
To put them plain, here are the definitions of each:
Hyperarousal:
Having a difficult time falling or staying asleep.
Feeling more irritable or having outbursts of anger.
Having difficulty concentrating.
Feeling constantly "on guard" or like danger is lurking around every corner.
Being "jumpy" or easily startled.
Hypervigilance is one of the hyperarousal symptoms of PTSD and refers to the experience of being constantly tense and "on guard." A person experiencing this symptom of PTSD will be motivated to maintain an increased awareness of their surrounding environment, sometimes even frequently scanning the environment to identify potential sources of threat. Hypervigilance is also often accompanied by changes in behavior, such as always choosing to sit in a far corner of a room so as to have awareness of all exits. At extreme levels, hypervigilance may appear similar to paranoia.
There is a part of our brain called the amygdala. It's considered the fear center of our brain. It's the part that tells you when danger is present and how to react and also decides on what memories to store and the proper place to store them.
The amygdala of a normal person will light up when someone jumps out from behind a door and yells "ahhhh" to scare you. You immediately know that there is no real danger and that it was just your friend trying to make you jump. Your heart may beat fast for a few minutes and your body might have a strange sense of needing to run, but it all goes away fairly quickly. No harm done.
If you jump out from behind the door at me (or startle me in any way), it has a much greater effect. I can immediately recognize that it was only a friend and there really isn't any immediate danger, but my body doesn't follow suite. That intense need to "run" stays with me for a good hour or so and I become highly agitated because I feel like I'm in danger and need to fight for my life. I know I don't need to, but I'm incapable of relaying that information to my brain. It takes a lot of energy to calm myself back down. The world gets loud and my body gets so extremely tired from wanting to take flight but not being able to.
And then for the icing on the cake, it's in those moments that my brain sees the opportunity to attack. In those moments I'm "looking the other way" so to say, and a trigger or flashback can sneak in and take over. The things I work so hard to fight off during the day are sneaky little bastards that will take the first opportunity to strike when I'm at my weakest.
Because of all of this, the most important thing to my day is to feel safe.
I need a locked door.
I need a space in which I don't feel as though someone can sneak up on me. (Which is why you will often see me sitting (alone) at a table in the corner of the room, a couch with a wall behind it, always being able to see all areas of possible approach, and never with my back to a door.)
I want to be at home instead of on the road where I feel like I could die in a car accident at any given moment.
I will do whatever I have to do in order to be in control of a situation. (ie. I hate being passenger on car rides. You might kill me, I have no control over how you drive.)
I want to feel like no one can get to me while I sleep. (And yes, I'm lucky enough to have one of the only bedrooms in the house without a lock on the door. Sometimes I sleep in the bathroom or the closet after a bad day until I feel safe enough again.)
Don't take offense to my need for safety. It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I know I'm not exempt from the bad things that happen in this world. I'm never going to mutter the words "It won't happen to me" because I actually think the exact opposite.
For the sake of anyone involved in any of my traumas over the years, I won't ever talk about them as specific events with specific details. I'll just refer to them as a whole, as a "series of unfortunate events" that brought me where I am today. I've seen a lot of horrible things, I've lived through horrible things that people shouldn't have to even remember, much less constantly relive and I've lost a lot of people who were really important to me to death.
My lovely little almond shaped amygdala is (obviously) far more overactive than the normal amygdala. Overreacting to potential danger and also storing way too many memories, most of them in the wrong areas of my brain. It's the reason that I can not only tell you the date of a bad memory, but also what day of the week it was that year, what the weather felt like on my skin, how the air smelled, what I was wearing, what songs played on the radio and so on.
My brain is, at any given time, remembering details beyond what is necessary. No one wants to remember the worst days of their life with such clarity and detail. And I don't just see it, I feel it. When it resurfaces, it's not just a picture in my head, it's happening all over again.
Will it make sense if I now tell you that at any given time during the day, when I'm working my ass off to stay in check, that I can easily become agitated and irritable? I'm really sorry in advance when you get to see me during those times. Know this: it has nothing to do with you. If it does, I would tell you. Why? Because as far as I know, people can't read other people's minds. If I haven't told you something you've done to upset/anger me, then it has nothing to do with you. Just let me have my fit of anger and give me a minute to bounce back. Please don't purposely aggravate me further. I know that seems pretty obvious, but human beings are so naturally defensive that it's not. If you start to approach me and I step back, give me my space. There are times when all my PTSD symptoms are colliding that I don't want to be touched. The simple gesture of a touch/hug/shoulder rub can set off things that I am trying to calm down. Please give me my space. (I refer to this as my "bubble" as my way of getting away with having to explain my chaos to people).
I found the following list of rules on a PTSD support site:
The unwritten rules for PTSD:
Believe me;
Be patient, I do not want to be a burden;
Accept that my pain and my disorder is as real as any other physical disability or injury, even though you can’t see it;
Understand that I would never hold on to this if I had a choice;
I would like to cast these feelings into the far reaches of the universe and banish the pain and bad memories from my mind forever.;
If I don’t mind being touched then hugs are great;
If I say I just need a moment, or I lash out for no apparent reason, just wait for me to come back;
I want to be whole and happy and, other than my dark times, I will be there for you.
"Geez, you come with too many rules..."
I know, I know. I'm not asking you to know them. I'm just giving you the opportunity to learn if you want to. And if you don't want to, that's fine with me.
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